Gloom
by DaftMonk
Summary: A young scientist and metallon adept, Demetri Vespar seeks mystic knowledge in the underworld of Mu, leagues beneath Weyard's Gaia Falls. An adventure unfolds...
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

A lone psynergy lamp dimly illuminates an otherwise empty street, a silent sentinel in the abandoned North Sector of industrial Dregvant. Imbued with strange phosphorescence, soft tendrils of dust motes swirl leisurely through the air, eventually collected by the lamp at the end of the street. As the dust meets the lamp's surface, a coronal discharge of atmospheric energy transfers the minute amount of energy to the lamp's interior, creating a faint beacon in addition to forming a psynergy cache.

This city is an old one. As a established front-runner of steam and allotropic technologies, it has had to reinvent itself numerous times as technology advances have dictated. Consequently, certain areas of Dregvant, such as North Sector, have become abandoned as the technology that empowered them grew obsolete. Smugglers and rebel adepts are attracted to such forsaken areas, perhaps because the nature of such places is similar to theirs… but darker, more mysterious purposes have been known to fester in such places as well.

The soft grinding of gears can be heard endlessly churning in the distance, where the boundaries of the central sector meet North. These are where the power plants of S.R.C, or Synthesized Resource Corp, proliferate the landscape and provide much of Dregvant's energy reserve. A lamp such as the one in North Sector is one source of this supply, known as an Isolated Sustainable Ion Stockpiler, or simply ISIS. Geothermal devices known as Damprocks provide a less abstract form of power generation, using steam turbines located deep underground.


	2. Chapter 2: The Return

North Sector's original purpose was the failed brain-child of a mad scientist, desiring a form of Zero Point energy cultivated from a type of abstract psynergy which he termed Morphogone. Evidence was presented, theories were made, and after the initial rush of possibility that such a phenomena could in fact, work; Demetri Vespar, as the scientist was known, disappeared after this initial rush faded when the energy was found to be a mere oscillation of ephemeral solar radiation. However, despite the truth that many members of Dregvant's scientific community did frown upon Vespar's debacle, quite a few believed he jumped the gun too quickly. It was discovered soon after his embarrassing departure that the energy, although temporal, could be harnessed easily through a remarkable process named Spatial Point Coronal Prominence Attraction, or much less winded; Coronal Prominence. This process magnetizes and as a result, illuminates the solar field contained within Mu's atmosphere by Noctilucent clouds near the edge of space. Thus, creations like ISIS can work. These lamps were kept around for spare power collection in case the Damprock mechanisms ever fail. To this day, scholarly adepts still have a vested interest in such a enigmatic phenomena as Coronal Prominence. Such an achievement was found to relate highly to a fabled process known as the **genesis of coronium**, which was more occult than it was scientific. Nonetheless, the scientific community of Dregvant celebrated their success, while giving a silent nod to the mad genius of Demetri Vespar, the madness in front of the method.

A sudden surge of energy infused the ISIS at the end of the street, causing it to flare up suddenly, then return to normal. The avenue remained as it was; uncaring, muted, and untouched except for the dust particles in the air.

Slowly, a long shadow formed against the dilapidated wall on the opposite street. The mysterious umbrage began to move towards the source of the light, making hardly a sound as it seemed to hover over the asphalt road. A voice out of the gloom spoke; a quiet whisper laden with somber reflection.

"What has happened to my city…," it said. "My own city, and my own Sector… abandoned, just as I have abandoned it." The figure gazed up at the ISIS, his face stricken by sadness.

"So, they figured you out. As did I, eventually. But it was too late; I could not return. My shame incapacitated me… and now look at the outcome. North Sector, decimated by the ravages of time, has met a cruel fate indeed." Turning, the man began walking down the street, heading towards a small house that had been boarded up. Grimacing, the man disgustedly spat, "So, this is how they repay a pioneer? An idealist of science? Pah." Raising his right hand, he stared intently at the wooden planks covering the door. The nails in them quivered once, then flew towards his hand almost instantly, remaining suspended about an inch from the center of his palm, forming a levitating ball of spikes. Eyebrows set in hard determination, he closed his hand over the nails and squeezed. Instead of crying out in pain, he then relaxed and exhaled, opening his palm to reveal an iron sphere.

Pocketing it, the man turned the doorknob and entered the darkened house.


	3. Chapter 3: Insight

A pale light flickered on, dimly illuminating a run-of-the-mill workshop covered with cobwebs . An oak table with ornate legs and drawers lay blanketed in diagrams and blueprints, taking a central position underneath the single, rather pathetic light.

Demetri's lip curled. He knew that this would be the likely outcome of his deed. As he stood wondering if the others had taken his research, he began strolling towards the table, brushing away the cobwebs obstructing his path. Peering down at the familiar workplace, he noticed an old newspaper, laying next to an even older thesis on the relation between fractal time and psynergetic interface. He picked up the paper, Centrifuge, noticing its time-worn date of one year, six months ago. The top story detailed his own humiliating departure after the ISIS debacle. Curious, he skipped over it, noticing that the tone of the article was hardly as critical as he imagined, but was instead rather sympathetic. This surprised Vespar, for he had expected the members of Dregvant's community to be far more smug and haughty about his failure. Oddly enough, the newspaper told a simple tale of premature talent, accompanied by an unfortunate scintilla of hubris. A rueful smile crept onto the scientist's face. It was nearly exactly what he thought of the whole escapade.  
"I was young and foolhardy," muttered Vespar. "I was too harsh on myself for my failure... thinking it would be the end of my career and even life in Dregvant. I did this to myself, but there is still time for me to change - humility is my salvation." As Demetri mused, he fiddled through the various papers and odds and ends on his desk, attempting to find what he came all the back to retrieve. It was an ancient mechanism, designed to calculate sidereal movement - at least, that was its main function... but the legends tell of a hidden purpose, one that revealed much more than astronomical truths, and more about the nature of the Universe itself: the fabled Unity of the Triad. The device revealed the secret of this legend, spoken of in Mu for bygone eras, but never completely understood. What triad? What was it for? Myths spoke of it, often even, but never conclusively. Questions asked but never answered...  
"But I am here to answer them," said the determined Vespar. "All my research pales in comparison to the revelation of this mythic circumstance. My unwavering tenacity will aid me to discover the truth..." Demetri suddenly realized he sounded like a conceited hot-air balloon; what he used to sound like when he was younger and arrogant. This is exactly what I want to change about myself, he quietly reminded himself. He then added humbly, "... But if I fail, so be it."

The scientist's fingers grazed across a tiny switch on the bottom left corner of the table. With a resolute smile, he clicked the switch. A hidden drawer shot out, revealing a box covered thickly in dust. Demetri carefully removed it, blowing off the dust to reveal a single word etched into the wooden container: _Triunitas_.  
"The name of the Triad... 'triple unity'. What does it mean? A trinity of what?" muttered Vespar. This was the reason he had come back; although it pained him to admit, he was following a hunch, an abashed piece of intuition that he kept despite his logical mind refuting its existence. He only had one idea, but somehow, it felt right to him: to travel to the Otherworldly Well... the Well of Kathanados. This decrepit shrine existed on the Foregone Isle of Verímoor, the oldest landform extant in the world of Mu. The Isle was almost directly in the center of the Sea of Aøvotum; the large expanse of water that covered most of Mu's surface. The shrine had many myths associated with it, from multiverses and other dimensions, to actual physical places one could travel to. However, people had stopped visiting the island recently, for there had been occasional disappearances and subsequent discoveries of the gruesome remains of travelers. A terrible beast was suspected of these mysterious events, but no one dared confirm the theory in fear of meeting a similar fate. As far as he was aware, the mechanism which Vespar possessed had never been associated with the Well of Kathanados. He was a pioneer of such a thought, and he hoped his intuition would succeed in producing conclusions on this theory. Though he was not afraid of whatever haunted the Foregone Isle, he was a little afraid of his idea becoming another lost cause.  
"Everything I touched seemed to break, wither and cease to function... but no longer. I have been humbled with defeat at my own hands, and now I know what I must do. I must prove to myself I can do great things, and not feel worthless when I fail. I think... I have found my quest." Slowly but surely, a feeling of peace mingled with adventurous joy came over Demitri. Gently placing the box in his satchel, along with the few books and various miscellanea he brought with him, he exited his old workshop, with a final gaze around the place which formed his character. From some deep place within himself, he felt a tangible sense of understanding about it all.  
"Goodbye, old house. Rest in peace." A breeze wafted through the creaking abode, seeming to wish a silent 'good luck' to the ambitious scientist. Closing the door behind him, Demitri shifted his eyes about North Sector, with a sad laugh. "I will never forget my time here. Dregvant will always have a place in my heart... but right now, my nascent spirit begins to move forward, to places I never dreamed, worlds I never thought possible! ... and it has to start someplace."

"I go... to Verímoor!"


	4. Chapter 4: Up Anchor

A wooden table creaked in greeting as the walls around it danced in lento. Vespar stood alone nearby, gazing languidly at the flicker of a galley fire. Having had the good fortune of finding a single ship in port, he had arranged a deal with the captain, a wizened yet powerful-looking Mercury adept with a disconcerting gaze. Demetri had been told an eerie tale before their departure, and it had hold on his mind.

"Lately, there's been talk of these storms being caused by some kind o' creature out off the coast of the Foregone Isle. Now lad, I ain't the superstitious type, but the number o' good ships been lost near that spot of late… a man should never be too careful of the risks." "Indeed, sire," Demetri had replied. "I can see you're a rather gifted metallon adept, son… you think you could ward off any potential blight to this ship?" Vespar's eyebrow had risen. The old seafarer was more discerning than he had assessed.

"As you wish, Captain." And that had been that.

As with most merchant vessels departing from Dregvant, the _Lady Rhia_, a large xebec, was on its way to the port of Tzopophon, located on the eastern coast of Avönell. It carried a shipment of fine silks from Kíramyn's temperate south coast, with its final destination being that of Zårpos, the capital of Avönell. The Nodapo river ran a straight course through Tzopophon, arriving at Zårpos in about two days standard boat travel.

The young scientist sighed. His previous vigour surrounding the quest for the Isle was slowly diminishing under the deafening crash of waves upon the old ship's hull. He almost wished he himself were on those southern shores, soaking up the sun. His reverie was dismissed post haste, however – his objective was too diverting for him to forget it easily. He wouldn't let his curiosity be daunted by a simple storm at sea.

The fire was almost out. After a passing flicker of resentment that someone else wasn't dealing with it, Demetri strode over to the grate and picked out one of the larger logs from the nearby wooden box, tossing it nonchalantly on the dying flame and whispering a word. The fire flared up instantly, engulfing the log. Demetri strode back to his place by the table, contemplating what other adepts would think of Mars psynergy if they knew the complexity of its science. The word he just uttered was an alchemical fiat designed to multiply oxygen levels in a constrained space, accelerating the fire's growth phase. The log he chose had a dense core to offset the initial burn. Mind wandering, Demetri began to wonder about water's growth phases – and a lesson presented itself rather unexpectedly.

The scientist barely had time to react as the port window beside him flew into the opposite wall, a rush of water following its speedy wake. Fear and adrenaline gripped Demetri's mind; he wasn't equipped to deal with situations like this. His mind raced.

_Luck_: the galley was above the water line; he had time to think before the ship's central axis reversed.  
_Problem_: Time attack; rolling physics and liquid. Brine licked around the soles of his boots; the ship began turning back.

Solution presenting itself, Demetri scarcely realized the movement of his body as his mind abandoned words for more limbic symbols, eyes catching the now-sputtering fire's grate as it instantly disintegrated and reintegrated as a three-inch thick wheel before flying into the empty porthole.

_Manete!_ He yelled at the wheel as his hand flies over a keg of rum in the far corner, its nails whistling as they bury themselves in the wood and iron of a newly-formed window. The adept just had time to collapse on the floor before the ship's roll axis completed, causing the newly patched hole to whine nervously – but hold.

Mouth dry, he stared up at the ceiling. _I'm not one for ships_, Demetri thought with a faint smile.


	5. Chapter 5: Dyve

Dawn arrived with the hesitant kiss of rain. The storm had passed but an hour ago, leaving in its wake the bedraggled and weary crew of_ Lady Rhia_. Rudder affixed, and crew abed, a lone deckhand remained awake on watch in the early unlit morning. The boy shivered in place beside the mizzenmast, wrapped in an old patched quilt. He blinked uncertainly at the wall of fog ahead, and yawned. "I should wake the skipper," he mumbled drowsily. "Shouldn't be long now." Slipping in and out of sleep, he barely noticed the soft aria of birdsong drifting past the ship like a ghost.

"That's nice," the boy murmured, turning over under his quilt. Suddenly he bolted awake. "Birdsong… land! Land ahoy!" Half-asleep, and still under his quilt, the deckhand stumbled to the bowsprit. "Captain, helmsman, navigator! Ahoy! Wake yourselves!" he cried. Peering intently into the mist, his supposition was confirmed by the hazy blue pastel of an approaching coastline. A door slammed open somewhere on the ship, and a hoarse voice rang out.

"Boy! What nonsense is this?" wheezed Izojo the navigator, stumbling up from the aft portal amid putting on his coat. "T'Isle of Verimoor should be leagues away, two hours past the break of day at me earliest estimations." The older man stared keenly at the boy. "You best not be fibbin', nor dreamin' on watch. I need my beauty sleep!" The deckhand looked away, rolling his eyes. He thought the navigator resembled a rather ancient pickled herring, but he wasn't about to say it to the man's face.

"Birdsong, sir. And if my eyes deceive me not, land. Looks to be a quarter league from us." The navigator sniffed suspiciously.

"Right. Let's have a look then."

Below decks, a metallon adept awoke to the sound of activity outside his cabin. Rubbing his eyes, he stumbled out of his cot, and promptly slipped on a puddle of rum. Muttering expletives, the young scientist Demetri Vespar got up and let his eyes follow the puddle's trail to a barrel in the far corner.

"I forgot about you," he said sourly. The barrel's nails had been used the night before to secure the porthole above his bed. "At least that didn't leak." Carefully tip-toeing around the puddle, and silently hoping the crew wouldn't notice the missing rum, the scientist exited the cabin with his cloak half 'round his shoulders, making his way to the for'ard portal.

The captain met Demetri's eye as he emerged above decks.

"Ho, adept," called the captain strongly, laughter in his eyes. "It seems we've sighted land—the north-eastern tip o' the Foregone Isle, if Izojo's directional skills can be trusted." Demetri chuckled as the navigator glared at his captain, disapproval etched on his face. "We'll arrive at the coordinates ye provided in roughly three quarters o' one hour. Me crew is preparing ye submersible as we speak."

"My thanks, captain Nar'dasso," replied Demetri. He shivered involuntarily. The mist was parting, allowing the sun's rays to reveal the isle's extensive coastline and massive cliffs.

This was the first step in the scientist's operation to investigate the mysterious Isle of Verímoor: the search for a way to access its interior. The island's long, obscure history was populated with attempts to reach beyond the massive cliffs that surrounded its coastline, with no success recorded in the past three hundred years. The last person to have supposedly achieved the feat was a legend himself; the Metallon adept Hiram, a High Prince of Kíramyn. Demetri's thoughts wandered to the wooden receptacle hidden in the satchel he had stowed in his quarters. The mechanism… did Hiram know of it? Did he use it? How did it land in my grandfather's hands?

"And why… why give it to me," he whispered aloud.

"What's that 'cha say?" rasped Izojo.

"I love it… the sea," said Demetri quickly. The navigator made a face, which Demetri realized after a moment was an attempt to smile.

"Aye. Guess you scientist types ne'er quite see the glorious face of Aøvotum, 'lest ye work close to port. It's a sight to behold indeed." Patting Demetri roughly on the back, he began stumbling back towards his post. "This swabbie'll have his sea legs yet, mark me words Captain," he chuckled. Nar'dasso grinned.

"Indeed. Go on now, young 'un. See to ye things, we're approaching fast."

Demetri nodded and turned to walk back belowdecks. As he went, he recalled the captain's request to aid in the ship's protection if need be—it was pure luck that no such help was needed.

"Perhaps the storm subdued even the monsters," Demetri mused. "The ill legends of Verímoor remain, however. I'll need to keep my wits about me." Entering his cabin, he flicked his eye back to the port window, and back to the floor. "Now I _really_ wish I possessed more Mercury psynergy," he muttered ruefully. A light turned on in his brain, however, and his attention turned to the large satchel sitting beside the wooden table. He focused his mind, and rose his right hand. An iron orb floated out, coming to rest about four inches above the floorboard. The scientist blinked, and the ball rapidly transformed into a flat sheet of metal, covering the circumference of the puddle. "_Xerokai_," he whispered, and the metal instantly become a dull red, puddle drying in seconds. The floor turned a slightly darker shade of brown, however, making him wince. He hoped they wouldn't notice it. _Like the rum barrel,_ he thought guiltily. With two flicks of his long fingers, the metal turned black once more and assumed the shape of a ball. Cold to the touch, he pocketed it, then picked up his satchel. Closing the door softly, he headed toward the storage bay.

The smell of fish and a peppy deckhand greeted him as he arrived.

"Here y'are, sir. Your submersible is nearly ready to engage. Have you gathered all your things?" Demetri nodded, glancing around the bay as he did so. The bay was small, but was full to the brim with a potpourri of weapons, unidentified boxes, strange instruments and much more. The amused deckhand caught his wandering gaze, laughing. "If you can believe it, our Captain dabbled as a–" he managed to get out.

"–military strategist for some time in his twenties," finished Nar'dasso, appearing behind the boy with a smile across his wizened face. "He believed his Mercurial roots—or kelp, as he likes to call 'em—could aid in the largely fire and earth-dominated Kíramyn military." The deckhand smiled back sheepishly.

"What the skipper said," he mumbled. Nar'dasso patted him on the shoulder fondly, then turned his attention to Demetri.

"All set, adept? The finishing touches have been made. Yonder vehicle is ready to engage." The sound of an engine starting up greeted the trio, and a dazzling light suddenly arced across the northern wall of the bay. The submarine was rather small, enough to fit two or maybe three people if they had little baggage, but it seemed very functional. Demetri scanned it carefully, sudden pain flashing across his eyes. It was not his—it was a prototype of his sister's, Rhea, another brilliant scientist of the Academy with a penchant for marine science. Demetri's eyes fell to the floor, downcast.

He had stolen it. After their grandfather passed away four years ago, Rhea had become increasingly distant, immersing herself almost entirely in her work. Demetri had been stricken with grief at first, though after a brief hiatus, followed suit. His grief had been channeled into his investigation of coronium—his sister's into her love of the sea. Their last interaction was two years ago, and it was a quarrel.

"Uh, sir?" quipped the curious deckhand. "You look like something's wrong. Don't be worried about your ship, she's a beauty. I don't know where you found such a machine!" Somewhat startled, Demetri let out a sad laugh.

"Indeed she is. I have little doubt she'll perform better than I could dream." He turned to Nar'dasso. "Your payment, Captain," he said, handing over a small pouch. "With a little extra for your kindness." _And for the rum and flooring,_ he added in his head. The Captain took it warmly, shaking Demetri's hand.

"Thankee, young adept. May the grace o' Poseidon guide thy journey." He led the adept over to the submersible, permitting the deckhand to pass the scientist his personal effects as he climbed inside the dimly-lit interior. Eyes alight with admiration, Demetri nearly laughed aloud.

The little vessel was like a thousand mirrors of his sister's ingenuity reflected back at him. Small details—dual binocular teleperiscopes; clever, lit identifiers on the myriad number of switches and dials; hand-crafted leather seats with soft padding; and cleverly designed storage compartments built into the floor all acted as complements to the larger details, such as the tungsten armor that plated the cockpit's exterior, the legendary 'AlcheLyst' device in the central console which could amplify an adept's power, and a strange near-luminescent orb that lay half-hidden in the dashboard. Demetri stared at it, slightly transfixed.

"I have no doubt I'll be just fine, Captain." He refocused his gaze back outside the vessel, smiling warmly at the ship's crew. "Many thanks for assisting me in this endeavour." Nar'dasso winked at him, and proceeded to shoo away the equally intrigued deckhand, who had also just noticed the pearlescent sphere. Attention regained, Demetri flicked the switch familiarly labelled _Claudere_, and with a subtle hiss, the doors of the entry hatch closed. The cabin felt cool, but there was a subtle heat growing in his chest. Even now, his excitement was palpable.

"Time to make history," he whispered, and pressed _Dyve._


End file.
